


joined all the same

by clasch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, M/M, More like Purgaytory amirite ladies, Multi, Purgatory Sex, smut and feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:55:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26451472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clasch/pseuds/clasch
Summary: The monsters notice.Of course, they’re the only ones aroundtonotice, except for Dean, and he’s the one who made Benny and Cas get their fucking act together in the first place.Alternatively, Cas and Benny work out their issues in Purgatory.
Relationships: Castiel/Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	1. i'll watch over you both

**Author's Note:**

> from this lovely prompt from the lovely [@all-about-turquoise](https://all-about-turquoise.tumblr.com/) that almost definitely could have been funny and sweet, but i felt like Purgatory PainTM:
>
>> Dean/Cas/Benny fic where Benny and Cas are in a phase of their relationship where they start to fall for each other and everyone around them is surprised at the change from their earlier bickerings and arguments.
> 
> T for Purgatory violence and language 

The monsters notice.

Of course, they’re the only ones around  _ to _ notice, except for Dean, and he’s the one who made Benny and Cas get their fucking act together in the first place.

Because it was awkward at first, after they found Cas by that river, grubby and worn and all but already flapping the fuck out of there. Dean and Benny were already, well,  _ together. _ Or at least they had been, tenuous alliance bleeding into tenuous friendship bleeding into something else entirely in stolen moments after fights with adrenaline still pumping and a wild look in Benny’s eyes that made Dean shiver and drop his forehead against the mark he bit into Benny’s broad shoulder. And Dean and Cas… Well. Dean doesn’t do labels. Besides, what is he supposed to call a recently re-angel-fied wave of celestial intent shrunk down into a nerdy little dude (who didn’t answer his prayers for fucking months) and a dead vamp he met in monster hell? His boyfriends? It just doesn’t fit. Not in Purgatory, anyway, and Dean doesn’t let himself think about what happens when they get topside. If they get topside.

Benny knew about Cas, of course. He’d fought with Dean about finding the angel ever since they’d teamed up, and he’d heard Dean’s prayers from his post on the perimeter of whatever copse or cave they found for Dean to catch a few hours of shut-eye in. Dean didn’t have to pray out loud, but he did it anyway, angry one night, desperate the next, pleading for Cas to  _ please man I can’t go back without you, I need you, I - _ Dean didn’t say it (couldn’t say it), didn’t even continue it in silence, but it wasn’t hard to figure out what came next.

And Cas must have known about Benny, since he actually was  _ listening _ to Dean’s prayers, even if he wasn’t responding to them.

But it didn’t go well, all the same. Benny watched on from a distance, glared at Cas over Dean’s shoulder. He gave them space that first night (not that it was ever  _ night _ in Purgatory, just dull indistinguishable gray that could have been twilight or dawn or midday just before a storm). Space for Dean’s relief to bleed into blind desperation every time his eyes fluttered shut until he grabbed a fistful of Cas’s filthy coat and hauled himself into Cas’s lap, mouthing hot and wet along Cas’s neck and revelling in the hitching sounds of Cas’s breath until he dropped off, forehead pressed into the thick seam along Cas’s shoulder. Space in the “morning” for more, hands and rolling hips and bitten off noises and thank fuck back pain doesn’t exist in Purgatory.

Then came the fighting, about where to set up camp, about who would watch over Dean while he slept, about leaving Cas behind (which Dean reminded them was stupid since they’re actually on the same side about that one, but, anyway, they’re both wrong), about all sorts of things Dean couldn’t make out after they slipped into French. Then the one-upping, smoothing Cas’s coat over Dean’s shoulders before he slept, then Benny’s since “it’s wool and ain’t in tatters, chief,” then Cas’s  _ wings, _ invisible but soft and warm and somehow clean and smelling of clean air and petrichor. And then there was the showboating, bared fangs and flashes of grace, blades flying at vamps, at wendigo, at monsters Dean didn’t have a name for.

And then there was the Leviathan, the quick slice of metal through flesh and ooze, the dull thud of its head against the ground. Benny offering a hand to Cas.

After that, things are tense, but it’s different. Silence is charged with something new. Cas doesn’t quite smile, but his eyebrows quirk in that way that means he would. Benny whistles more, old folk tunes that Dean almost remembers.

They run into a shifter, a powerful one, who laughs and says, “So the human’s finally housebroken his pets,” in Dean’s voice, peeling a wide strip of flesh down its face and grinning Dean’s grin. Cas’s blade buries in the tree behind it with a wet thunk. Benny lops its head off in one fluid motion.

“Well,” Dean says, wrenching the angel blade from the shifter’s heart and tossing it to Cas, who wipes it carefully on his coat. “Gross.”

Benny breaks into an easy smile. “Suppose we do make a good team, angel.”

“When necessary,” Cas says, upper lip twitching momentarily into what could have been a smile.

They find a cave for the “night.” Benny starts in about taking watch, without heat, but Cas shakes his head and holds out a hand. “I’ll watch over you both.”

There’s that grin from Benny again, the one that makes Dean’s heart race, the one he turns away from to stop himself from thinking about  _ after, _ about _ what if. _ Dean’s propped up on his elbows on the floor of the cave, heart in his throat. Benny tucks one arm under his head, rests the other hand on Dean’s hip, the one closer to Cas. And there’s a rush of wind, an unfurling. A settling. Cas stretches his wing over them both, slips an arm around Dean’s waist.

The cave smells of wind, smells of rain, smells of what if. Dean sleeps, curled under the wing that covers them all, screws his eyes shut so he won’t think of  _ after. _ Of this, but on a soft wide mattress under clean sheets in the glow of the setting sun, the rising sun, evenings and mornings and evenings.

Dean wakes slowly to the sound of hushed voices, catches his name and controls his breathing, but pretending to still be asleep doesn’t work and they slip into French. It wouldn’t have worked on vamp hearing and angel senses separately. It definitely doesn’t work on them together. Especially with their hands resting on Dean’s chest just below his heart, Benny’s thumb under the arch of Cas’s little finger, not quite touching, but joined all the same.


	2. prends soin de lui

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody is keeping watch. Somebody probably should be, definitely should be, since Dean already can't keep quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry ♥
> 
> M+ for Purgatory smut (E to be safe)

Nobody is keeping watch. Somebody probably should be, definitely should be, since Dean already can't keep quiet. Benny's attached himself to the sensitive skin of Dean's neck just below his ear, just above a pulse point, and he’s got one arm thrown across Dean’s stomach, two fingers tucked into the belt loop on Cas’s coat. Cas has one hand cradled under Dean's head to keep it from knocking back against the stone floor of the cave, and the other twisted around Benny's suspender, tugging him closer, while he presses feather-light kisses to Dean’s forehead, his eyelids, the tip of his nose, the dip in his chin.

They've never done this before, not all three of them. Well, not exactly. Dean saw Benny once, watching him move against Cas in the dappled gray-green light of a clearing, made eye contact with him over Cas's shoulder and fell over the edge when Benny reached down to palm himself through his trousers, shaking and biting his cheek so hard he drew blood.

But this is different. Dean could lose himself with, between, under Benny and Cas, but he finds that isn't what he wants. Not this time. Not right now, at least. There will be time for that later,  _ after, _ somewhere with a big standing shower and a soft mattress, where they can take their time and there’s clean clothes they can strip off and leave in a pile on the floor. And there’s something better than spit. He swallows, thinking of Benny moving inside him and Cas against him. Or Cas inside him while Benny nudges against his mouth. Or -

He wriggles free and hauls himself up to sit against the rough stone wall of the cave.

"Dean?" Cas says, voice rough, pupils already blown wide.

"Will you -" Dean starts, then finds he doesn't know what to say. "Please -” His gaze flicks between the two of them propping themselves up on their elbows to look at him. Cas’s hair is a wreck already, mussed from where Dean curled his fingers into it to pull him closer and  _ stop teasing, damn it. _ Benny’s coat is hanging off one shoulder, his suspender twisted into the collar of his shirt. Dean licks his lips.

"Lookin' for a show, chief?" Benny says, raising one eyebrow at him.

_ Yes. _ He wants Benny and Cas together, two forces of nature meeting in the middle. He wants to see, even if they can only move against each other in too many layers. Dean grabs a fistful of his jeans to keep his hands from shaking.

Benny looks Cas up and down, a slow grin spreading across his face. "What do you say, angel?"

"Yes," Cas says simply, like he had been waiting for them to ask.

They reach for each other and Dean forgets how to breathe.

Where Cas and Benny are gentle with Dean, together they fight. It’s teeth and rough hands pulling at clothes and thighs shoved between knees. It’s heavy breathing in the stillness of the cave, the stillness of the dawn or the twilight or the noon before a storm, and it’s bitten-off noises Dean realizes are coming from him just at the sight of it all.

Before long, Cas has a hand between them, working at Benny’s belt, the buttons on his trousers. Benny rucks up Cas’s coat to palm at the swell of his ass, hooking his fingers in the waistband of those grimy scrub pants and easing them down. There’s a hiss from Cas at the contact, hot flesh against hot flesh, and Benny extricates one hand to spit in it.

Dean swallows, watching the rolling push-pull of their thrusts into Benny’s hand. He can’t see it all, not with their clothes in the way, but there’s the smooth motion of Benny’s hips, the intense concentration on Cas’s face before he tips his forehead against Benny’s to look between them.

And Dean can’t take it anymore. He unclenches his hands from where they’re fisted in the rough fabric of his jeans so hard he has to wiggle his fingers to get the blood flowing again.

Benny looks up at the sound of Dean's zipper, loud in the quiet hush of their heavy breathing. He grins at the sight of Dean taking himself in hand, then lets out a hiss when Cas bites at his exposed neck and takes the opportunity to throw his leg over Benny's and flip them so he's astride Benny, one knee planted on either side of his hips. And  _ oh, _ now Dean can  _ see. _

Cas bats Benny's hand out of the way so he can rut against him unimpeded for a moment, fully on display for Dean, who bites off a groan at the sight, at the feeling of his own grip involuntarily tightening. He drops to his elbows over Benny, smoothing the hair at Benny’s temple in an unexpectedly gentle move that has Dean aching for when this is all over, for  _ after  _ so suddenly that he nearly misses Cas’s quiet  _ “prends soin de lui” _ to Benny, who nods once and squeezes Cas’s hips.  _ “Si on le trouve, promets-moi,” _ Cas says in a rush.

_ “Je promets.” _

_ “Et - et prends soin de toi. S'il vous plaît, je -” _

_ “Castiel, je comprends. Je promets.” _

“Didn’t know I’d need to understand French to keep up during sex,” Dean says, breathless at the way  _ Castiel _ rolls off Benny’s tongue. He’s moving urgently now, fire coiling low in his belly. They are too. The smooth motion of Cas’s hips stutters against Benny, who cranes his neck to look up at Dean and wink, but there’s something off, something guarded in his expression, except Dean doesn’t have time to figure it out because Cas is reaching a hand out for him, grasping the bare skin of Dean’s ankle.

Cas tugs at Dean’s leg.  _ “Viens - _ Dean. Come here.”

There’s a wild look in Cas’s eyes as he grabs at Dean to pull him closer with one hand, reaches down to take hold of himself and Benny with the other. Dean hauls himself up to kneeling and shuffles over not very gracefully, unable to keep his hands off. But Cas rolls off Benny, pulling Dean back down between them, and suddenly it’s all hands and hot flesh against the bare skin of Dean’s stomach where his shirt got rucked up in the shuffle and Benny’s mouth at his ear again, breathing huffs of hot air there, and Cas’s forehead against his, blue eyes boring into his until it’s too much and Cas leans in to capture Dean’s mouth, swallowing his cry as he falls over the edge.

Benny follows with a sigh, then Cas, who pulls away and drops his forehead to Dean’s neck, right against his racing pulse.

They lie there tangled together for a moment, a minute, an hour, Dean isn’t sure. Long enough for him to think about  _ after _ again, lazy mornings under fresh sheets and clean washcloths by the bed to wipe themselves with and a shower big enough round two for the three of them. And then he thinks about breakfast and mowing the lawn and taking a drive just for the hell of it, and everything he had with Lisa, but with Cas and with Benny, and he remembers why he shouldn’t think  _ what if. _

After they clean up and resume the trail, there’s a leaf, a wind, and then a spell and a strange cold-warm fullness in Dean’s arm. Leviathan. Cas slipping away, grabbing desperately for his arm, the sleeve of his coat, anything. A blink.

Fresh air and the sound of a forest at night. Sights, sounds, smells all ramped up to eleven after the muted gray of Purgatory.

And no Castiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rebloggable tumblr link [here!](https://good-things-do-happen-dean.tumblr.com/post/629183465000222720/all-about-turquoise-part-two-of-this-is-finally)

**Author's Note:**

> rebloggable Tumblr link [here!](https://good-things-do-happen-dean.tumblr.com/post/628118294452387841/hi-id-like-to-request-a-deancasbenny-fic-where)


End file.
